


The Obligatory Sex Pollen Fic

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [28]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Gratuitous Smut, Illness, Kidnapping, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Perverts of the most obnoxious variety, Sex Pollen, Smut, oh boy, this is nothing but sin, this is... a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: Hi, welcome to whatever the fuck this is.You and Piotr are abducted by a scientist who wants to test out his 'love gas' on mutants.This is a sex pollen fic. Fuck or die. More orgasms than what is probably realistic.Strap in, kiddos. This is a wild (poorly written) ride.(All warnings in the tags. I have no idea when in the series this is set.)





	The Obligatory Sex Pollen Fic

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to take a moment to apologize to my mother.
> 
> Sorry, mom.

You wake up to a mild headache and bright white walls that say ‘fuck your migraine, Y/N, you’re here to suffer.’

It’s also worth noting that you’re in a room with no doors, windows, or other visible exits, which is a definite violation of any fire safety code you’ve ever heard of.

You groan as you sit up. You’re perched on a massive, plush bed covered in white linens --again, fuck your headache. There’s a nightstand and lamp on either side of the bed.

You wince as you rub your temples.  _Where the fuck am I?_

The last thing you can remember, you were on a date with Piotr. The two of you had gone to see a movie, and you’d gotten up part way through to go to the bathroom. You can remember reaching for the handle to exit, and--

Nothing. Everything’s black after that.

 _Fuck_ , you realize.  _I’ve been abducted. Again_. Terror squeezes your heart and you whip your head around.  _Piotr! Where is he? Is he okay?_

Fortunately for you, your boyfriend’s sacked out on a nearby leather couch.

You stumble over to him and start check for any cuts or bruises. “Piotr? Can you hear me? Baby, you need to wake up. We’re in some deep shit.”

He comes to with a heavy groan. “ _Myshka_? What is it?”

“Babe, I think we’ve been kidnapped.”

That wakes him up. He sits up with a jerk, blue eyes wide and filled with sleep-tinged shock. “What?” He winces at the bright white of the room. “Where are we?”

“Like I said, we’ve been kidnapped. I can’t see any doors or windows or anything that might let us out.” You tense as you scan the ceiling and grab his hand. “Babe, there’s cameras everywhere in here. Someone’s watching us.”

Piotr puts an arm around you, holding you to him while he scans the room. “Do you remember what happened?”

“No. All I remember is going to leave the bathroom, and then... nothing. Someone must have drugged me.”

“Same for me. I got up to check on you because you were gone for so long, but I do not recall making it out of theater room.”

There’s a slight crackle on some unseen speaker, and a TV screen lowers from the wall opposite of the bed. It flicks on and a grainy image of a thin, pasty guy grins at the two of you. “Not fucking bad. My previous test subjects didn’t put everything together quite as fast. Looks like my data on your relative intelligence was pretty accurate.”

 _Test subjects?_  You squish yourself closer to Piotr. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Dwight Bard, my friends call me Rogue. Sorry about the... unexpected arrival here. It’s kind of hard to get people to test this willingly. Fortunately, as long as the two of you cooperate, you should have a pretty good time of it.”

Piotr’s arms tighten around you. “Why are we here?”

“And what the fuck are we being tested on? I didn’t take Algebra II in high school for this weird abduction shit.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like Algebra II,” Dwight says. “You two are here because I needed to test my latest experiment on mutants. Believe it or not, your kind are pretty hard to find. Now, before you two freak out, don’t worry. It’s not a bunch of lab shit. You’re just here so I can see the effects of my latest pheromone-slash-endorphin enhancer on the mutant body.”

_His what?_

“You could call it a, uh, ‘Love Gas’ of sorts. Well, I call it the ‘Rabbit Gas’ for, uh, easy to figure out reasons--”

 _Pheromones and endorphins. Duh._  “You’re gonna dope us on sex pollen?”

“Essentially. There’s already some stuff on the BDSM market, but I’m trying to cultivate a more potent, more natural gaseous aphrodisiac. My initial tests on regular humans went well, but I need test it on mutants, too, to make sure I avoid lawsuits.”

“Right. Because, in light of abducting two people, lawsuits are definitely your biggest worry,” you say dryly. “Why the fuck do you need us anyway? There have  _got_  to be enough mutants in the BDSM and swinger communities that’d be down to test your weird shit.”

“You’d be surprised. The three categories are already minorities as is, and most mutants don’t tend to advertise their genetic status. I had to look for more accessible mutants and, well, the X-Men are about as accessible as it gets.”

Piotr’s teeth clench together with an audible click. “And what makes you think we will participate in such testing?”

“Well, one, it’s a gas. It’s already being administered in the room. You’re breathing it in as we speak. So, unless you plan to suffocate yourselves to death, you really don’t have much of a choice.”

“Perhaps we will break out,” Piotr reasons.

“Uh, yeah, good luck. I’ve already got your mutations pinned down. There aren’t any seams or hinges for your girlfriend to use to pry anything open, and the walls are thick enough that you can’t beat your way through them. Besides, if you so much as shift into metal mode to try and break out, I’ll open the room and let my guards shoot your girlfriend on the spot. Capiche?”

You tuck your head against Piotr’s shoulder as he lets out a growl.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And, as for cooperating, well, my intel tells me that you’re generally pretty patient. Your increased aggression towards me means that your testosterone levels are up, which means the gas is already working, so...”

 _So we’re going to be horny out of our minds in a few hours,_  you surmise.  _Great_.

“Anyway, there are clean pajamas and shit in the bathroom closet, and the nightstands are stocked with condoms and lube if you need them, along with a few basic toys, but all the research I’ve done tells me that you guys are pretty vanilla...”

You shudder against Piotr’s chest.  _This guy’s been stalking us! What all... what all has he seen to know this kind of shit?_

You’re not sure you want to know.

“...but the gas does contain a contraceptive element, so you guys should be good if you go bareback. I’ll leave it to you. Meals will be delivered three times a day by the guards, and if you need clean towels or bedding or whatever feel free to ask. I’ll be watching everything, and it’s all gonna be recorded for research purposes, by the way. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not like we really have a say even if it does,” you grumble.

“Anyway, if you need anything or have any questions, just holler.”

“You’re a fucking douchehole!” You shout as the TV screen retracts into the ceiling once more.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Yeah, well neither is kidnapping people and doping them with fucking sex gas! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I’m just a scienti--”

“ _Myshka_ , please, settle.” Piotr gives you a reassuring smile, but he’s noticeably tense all the same. “We ought to make game plan.”

You cock your head to the side, confused. “For what?”

“Well, it will not take long for team to notice we are missing. Until we are rescued, we ought to decide how to handle... things.”

“Gee, you’re being  _so_  specific.”

He chuckles bashfully. “I would rather not... make love while we are under influence of this alleged gas. It would not be consensual --to say nothing of fact that we are being watched.”

“What can I say? I’m a voyeur.”

You flip the nearest camera off before refocusing on your boyfriend. “So, what, no fucking until we’re out of here?”

“I think it would be easier to handle if we did not get to close to each other.”

It’s easy enough to pick up on what he’s saying. If Dwight is to be believed, the two of you are going to be out of your minds with lust in a few hours. The less contact you have, the easier it’ll be to avoid screwing while under the influence --and Dwight’s creepy, scrutinizing gaze.

Admittedly, you wouldn’t mind seeing what super horny sex with Piotr would be like, but there’s no way you’re gonna force it if he’s not down.

Besides, there’s no way in  _hell_  you’re screwing while Dwight’s watching. You’ve indirectly known the guy for all of five minutes, and you already hate him.

You flop back on the couch. “Fine. Boys have cooties anyway. Get your infected ass away from me, Rasputin.”

Piotr laughs as he gets up. “If you insist.”

“Yeah. I really fucking do.”  _I wish I didn’t have to, though_.

 

* * *

Lunch goes well enough --and tips the two of you off to the fact that you’ve been in the room for at least twelve hours.

You frown as you chow down on half a turkey sandwich. “So, if we’ve been in here for at least twelve hours, how much of this gas shit do we have in our systems?”

Piotr shakes his head. “I think he is bluffing. I do not feel any effects.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having issues with slow onset. Still trying to work that out.”

You roll your eyes at Dwight’s commentary, but your mind mulls it over anyway.

A slow onset meant there really wasn’t any good way to gauge just how much of the chemicals were in your system --which, theoretically, meant everything was going to hit at fucking once like a  _bitch_.

It also raised other alarming possibilities. Namely, was it possible to overdose on the shit before Nate, Wade, and the others broke you out?

You knew Dwight would have the answers, but you also really didn’t want to talk to the guy to find out. Just knowing he was watching you was annoying enough.

Instead, you opt to taunt him. “Just you wait until my dad and brother get us out of here. They’re gonna beat your ass until you wished you were never born.”

 

* * *

Two hours after lunch and you’re bored out of your skull. You’ve paced every inch of the room, checked all of the nightstand drawers and the bathroom, and there’s nothing else to do short of making out with your boyfriend.

Which you can’t do.

Eventually, you turn your gaze to the wall to wall shelves of books. You eye it critically for a moment, before glancing behind you to where Piotr’s doing push-ups. “How much do you want to bet this is  _all_  porn?”

He chuckles. “Enough to know I should not make that bet.”

You snort and reach for the nearest book. “Only one way to find out.”

 

* * *

It’s all porn. Every. Single. Last. Book.

Some of it, admittedly, is pretty tastefully written. Good pacing, excellent description, comfortable dialogue that doesn’t feel like it came out of an ‘80s porno.

Some of it, however, is complete and utter  _garbage_.

So, naturally, you find all the worst ones you can and read them out loud to Piotr.

“‘‘Empty my tanks,’ I’d begged breathlessly,’” you read between gasps of laughter. “‘As once more she began drawing me deep inside her pleasure cave. Her vaginal ratchet moved in concertina-like waves, slowly chugging my organ as a boa constrictor swallows its prey. Soon I was locked in, balls deep, ready to be ground down by the enamelled pepper mill within her.’”

Piotr laughs into the floor, having given up on working out ages ago. “ _Bozhe moi_ , that is not real! You are making this up!”

“The fuck I’m not!” You chuck the book at him. “Read it for yourself, Rasputin!”

He barely glances at the page before he chucks the book across the room and starts laughing again. “How does that make it past editor? How does it get published?”

“Because the industry is run by men.” You pick up another book and flip though until you find another sex scene. “‘He’s almost weightless. When he enters me it hurts and my pain belongs to the subterranean world, primitive as the clay. His body is slacker than I expected, a small paunch begins at his waist and settles in a downward parabola to his groin. His pubic hair is red. His erect penis is a surprise although I had imagined what they would feel like, read about them, seen them represented on toilet walls and magazines. I didn’t see it before he entered me, but afterwards it is small and sticky and amusing. I want to touch it but I don’t dare. I don’t know the etiquette. He is twenty or more years older than me. This is sex.’”

“ _Nyet_ ,” Piotr says as he sits up, bracing himself against a wall. “No more. Enough.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pete. This art, and it deserves to be appreciated as such.”

“It is garbage and you are reading it to annoy me.”

“You can’t prove anything.” You scan the shelves and let out a little noise of delight when you find something promising. “Oh, this one’s in Russian!” You toss it over to your boyfriend. “Wanna read it to me?”

“ _Nyet_.” He tosses the book away from him. “I think I will meditate for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“And here I thought you liked the sound of my voice.”

“I like it just fine. I don’t like what it’s saying.”

“Fine. Be that way.”

He chuckles, shakes his head, and let his head tip back against the wall as he closes his eyes.

You take a moment to admire him --the way his biceps strain at his shirt sleeves, the thick cords of muscles on his neck, the sharp lines of his jaw...

You veer off your internal track of thought when you realize that you’re flat out ogling your boyfriend.  _Looks like there might be more behind this sex gas than just Dwight’s creepy, creepy talk_. You force yourself to refocus on the shelves, trying to find anything to distract you-- “Oh my gosh!”

A heavy sigh emanates from behind you. “What now?”

“This dude has Chuck Tingle’s entire collection!”

“Is that the author Wade keeps talking about?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s Hugo Award nominated. He’s worth talking about.” You start pulling books off the shelves and set them to the side. “I’m saving these for Wade. He’s gonna be over the moon.”

Piotr chuckles. “Whatever you say say,  _myshka_.”

 

* * *

You’re sitting on the couch later that night, waiting for Piotr to finish showering, when it happens.

One moment, everything’s quiet and peaceful, save for the sounds of the shower and Piotr occasionally moving.

The next moment, however--

“Oh, I should’ve mentioned this earlier. Masturbation doesn’t work while you’re under the effects of the gas.”

Piotr swears loudly, startled, and presumably smacks into the shower wall if the following thud is anything to go by.

You have to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“It is not that funny!”

So much for being quiet.

 

* * *

You wind up sleeping on the couch, nestled in some of the extra clean linens stocked in the bathroom. You can hear Piotr snoring away in the bed, sleeping peacefully despite the circumstances.

Now that the lights are off and you can’t talk to Piotr, the unease of being trapped in a room you can’t escape from --a room being guarded by men with guns, no less--makes itself fully known. It’s too similar to your childhood for comfort, and the lack of easily used distractions is only making you more anxious.

You want nothing more than to crawl into bed with Piotr and curl up in his arms until you pass out. He’s your only real source of comfort here, and you know he’d help you relax without so much as a second thought if you asked.

But you can’t ask. Not while you’re both hyped on whatever concoction Dwight’s pouring into the room --which, if the mounting, all too familiar ache between your legs is anything to go by, isn’t as much talk as you’d hoped.

Left with nothing else, you close your eyes and run through a few of your calming meditation techniques.  _Please let the X-Force find us soon_.

 

* * *

You wake up feeling indescribably horny. You haven’t even touched yourself or run through a single mental fantasy, and you can already tell that your underwear are already soaked through.

Piotr doesn’t seem any better. He’s oddly tense, and the few times you dare to look it’s easy to tell he’s sporting a massive erection.

You sigh, frustrated, as two guards sporting guns bring in your breakfast.  _This is gonna suck._

 

* * *

It gets to the point where the two of you can’t even look at each other, let alone talk to one another. You can’t even keep from squirming one of times the two of you do lock gazes. The way Piotr looks at you --like he’s undressing you, bending you over, and fucking you until you can’t walk straight--is enough to make you want to run across the room and jump his bones.

You don’t, though. The two of you made a deal, and the last thing you want to do is go back on it.

You let out an irritated sigh as you stare up at the ceiling.  _I was right. This fucking sucks_.

 

* * *

Later, in the shower, you cave.

You’re so fucking horny you can’t think straight. Your cunt feels like it’s  _throbbing_ , and your clit is so sensitive that you’re certain that you’ll come from just one touch alone.

You turn up the water to the max to make sure that Piotr can’t hear what you’re doing, then slip a hand between your legs.

Pleasure sparks through your whole body as soon as your rub your fingers against your swollen clitoris, and you bite down on your lip to keep from crying out. You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the incredible need you’re feeling and doing whatever it takes to get a damn orgasm.

It’s easy to imagine that Piotr’s in the shower there with you, groping at your chest and ass, sucking at your neck, shoving his massive cock into you and pounding you until you scream--

“You know, I’ve said that masturbation isn’t going to help, but feel free to keep going. You look pretty damn hot like that.”

You shriek and whip your hand away from your legs. “You have cameras in the bathroom?! You fucking pervert!”

“Hey, scientific research requires being thorough.”

You whip through the rest of your shower, mood ruined and the ache between your legs worse than before. You dry off and get dressed as fast as you can, then barely refraining from stomping back into the main room.

Unlike past you from a couple nights ago, Piotr isn’t laughing. In fact, he isn’t even looking at you. He’s starting pointedly at a wall, jaw clenched tightly shut.

“You okay?” You ask as you settle down on the couch.

“ _Da_.”

When he doesn’t say anything else --doesn’t even look at you--you yank your blanket up over your head and squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.  _When we get out of here, I’m gonna murder Dwight with my bare hands_.

 

* * *

You wake up during the middle of the night, drenched from head to toe in sweat. Your arms shake as you push yourself into a sitting position, and you can barely get the blankets off you fast enough.  _Why is it so fucking hot? And why am I so fucking thirsty? Shit, I need a drink_.

Your head reels as you stumble to the bathroom, and you can barely get the lights on before you practically collapse against the sink. “Fuck.” You turn the cold tap on to max and splash the icy water all over your flushed face. “What’s wrong with me?”

Your stomach lurches, and then your legs give out on you. You crumple to the floor, gasping for air as sweat trickles down your back. You try to get back up, but your limbs are essentially useless in the face whatever it is you’re dealing with right now.

Scared, half-awake, and out of breath, you do the only thing you can think of. “Piotr!” You start crying as your nerves get the better of you.  _Am I dying? Holy shit, I feel like I’m dying_. “Piotr! I need help!”

Piotr’s loud snores cut off abruptly, and you can hear the sound of his bare feet smacking against the concrete floor as he makes his way to the bathroom. “ _Kakiye? Myshka_ , what is it?”

“I fell,” you whimper up at him. “I can’t get up. And I can’t breathe!”

He kneels next to you and presses a hand against your forehead. “ _Bozhe moi,_  you’re burning. And you’re soaked. You are sick; we need to get you cooled off.”

“Piotr, I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe!”

“I know, I know. Try to stay calm,  _moya lyubov’_. I will take care of you.” He turns the shower on full blast, then quickly strips the two of you before scooping you into his arms and stepping under the frigid spray.

You yelp when the arctic water hits your skin. “That’s fucking cold!”

“I know,  _dorogoy_ , but we need to get your temperature down. Focus on your breathing.”

You shiver in his arms. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?”

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Just breathe with me.”

“No, I’m gonna die. I can’t fucking breathe and I’m gonna die!”

“Y/N, you need to calm down--”

The speakers in the bathroom pop. “Oh shit. She’s hitting the side effects already. Interesting. The onset of negative side effects took a lot longer with non-mutants.”

Piotr’s head jerks up towards the ceiling. “What do you mean? What is wrong with her?”

“Well, any ingested chemical substance runs the risk of having side effects. Right now, your girl’s at the fever stage, which is the early onset sign of having too much of the gas’s chemicals in her system. It’s accompanied by weakness, dizziness, and difficulty breathing. Next up will be vomiting, diarrhea, and chills, until she eventually starts vomiting blood from internal hemorrhaging. After that, well, there isn’t really anything after that. Once the hemorrhaging starts, it’s pretty much game over.”

Piotr’s arms tighten around you. “Turn off the gas! Now!”

“Excuse. I’m in charge of this experiment, not you. I need results.”

“You have them. It takes less time for mutants to become sick. Now turn gas off.”

“Or what? You’re not exactly in a position to bargain. Besides, the side effects are still reversible at this point. The chemicals are processed out of the body through mass release of endorphins. Get her off a few times and her temperature and breathing should go back to normal.”

Piotr growls. “You are disgusting. Depraved.”

“And you have a choice to make: fuck your girlfriend despite whatever weird chivalry rules you have going on, or don’t and watch her suffer. Your choice.”

You grab at Piotr’s arm. “Baby, I can’t breathe. Why aren’t you helping me? I can’t fucking breathe!”

Piotr presses his lips against your forehead. His entire body’s gone tense, and he’s breathing in short, hard pants. “It’s okay,  _moya dusha_. I will take care of you. Everything will be alright.”

You whimper as he turns off the water and scoops you into his arms again. “Stop, you’re making me dizzy!”

“I’m sorry. I need to get you to bed,” he murmurs as he carries you out of the bathroom.

You swat at his chest as your head reels. “Piotr, stop! You’re gonna make me puke!”

“Try to hang on,  _myshka_. Focus on breathing,  _korosho_?”

You whine as he sets you gently on the bed. “Piotr--”

His lips press against yours. “It’s okay. I will make it better.”

“Just make it stop,” you beg. “I just want it to stop!”

“Okay, okay.”

You whimper when the bed doesn’t stop spinning --then gasp when Piotr’s fingers slides up your thigh and between your folds. “Oh god!”

Piotr groans --flat out  _groans_ \--when he pushes his fingers inside you and starts thrusting them back and forth. “ _Bozhe moi, myshka_ , you’re dripping.”

You whine and rock your hips back and forth, desperate for the release you’ve been craving for the past few days. “Oh, god, Piotr! Please--”

“Are you sure? Do you really want this?”

“Do I really want --for fuck’s sake!” You sit up long enough to loop your arms around his next then yank him down into a searing, sloppy, passionate kiss.

Piotr moans as you tug at his lower lip with his teeth. “ _Myshka_ \--”

“Piotr Nikolaiveitch Rasputin, you’ve got to the count of fucking ten to get your cock inside me or  _so help me_ \--”

Piotr picks that moment to shove his tongue into your mouth, effectively cutting you off. He fingerfucks you faster, harder, until you’re on the edge of an orgasm that flat out won’t come.

You whine when his fingers leave you and watch impatiently, hungrily, while he unwraps a condom and slides it on. “Will you hurry up?”

“Will you be patient?”

“Absolutely fucking not.” Even just the minimal amount of foreplay already has you breathing easier, but you can feel your lungs constricting more and more every second the two of you are apart. “Baby, please, I already can’t breathe again--”

He kisses you again as he climbs on top of you. “It’s okay. I will take care of you.”

You both let out simultaneous groans as he thrusts in, relieved and aroused in equal measure.

You wrap you legs around his waist as he starts pumping his hips. “Oh, god, Piotr--”

He groans in your ear and tugs at the lobe with his teeth. “ _Bozhe moi_ , you feel--”

You miss whatever he says next, as a much needed orgasm rockets through you. You shriek as your walls clench around his cock, pleasure mixing with the sheer relief from the last few days of sexual tension torture.

“ _Blyad_ , you’re so beautiful like this--”

You whimper as pleasure continues coursing through you, leaving you unable to do little more than moan and writhe under your boyfriend. “Oh, fuck, baby, please--”

Your back arches as another orgasm sweeps through you, stronger than the first. Your nails score down Piotr’s back, and he hisses before thrusting harder into you.

“ _Der’mo_!” He mouths at your neck, licking and sucking as his hips slap against yours. The next few sentences that come out of his mouth are a garbled mixture of English and Russian--

And then he rolls so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him.

You plant your hands on his broad chest, hellbent on riding him as hard and fast as possible. “Oh god, oh god, oh baby, oh god--”

Fortunately for you, Piotr releases your hips to grope at your chest and ass, leaving you to set your own pace. He groans when you clench around him --again--and sits up so he can kiss you. “ _Bozhe moi, moya serdste, Vy chuvstvuyete sebya nastol'ko khorosho_ \--”

You whimper into his mouth as your hips jerk back and forth wildly. “Fuck, baby, please--”

He groans again, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open as his hips rock up against you. “Y/N, I--  _blyad_ \--”

He’s the perfect picture of wanton debauchery underneath, and it drives you utterly wild.

You move faster, wilder, bouncing yourself up and down on his cock until the two of you are moaning, flushed messes. You gasp as your climax starts building --then whimper when Piotr takes hold of your hips and moves you more forcefully. Your back arches, you mouth stretches into an ‘O’ shape--

Piotr sits up as your climax hits, clutching you against his chest and kissing you senseless as your walls clench around him. His hands map out the curves of your body --your hips, your stomach, the line of your spine--as you come down from your high, making you shiver.

You whine, writhing against his hips as he nips at your jaw. “Piotr --please--” You’re still aching with need, impossibly slick and beyond sensitive. “Baby, please, fuck, I need more!”

He groans against your neck and starts shifting you back against the bed. “ _Da, myshka._  Anything you need.”

You grunt and push against his chest before he can lay you out on your back, though. “No, wait --not like this.” You slide off him when he lets you go --the loss of fullness, of feeling him inside you, is almost heart-wrenching--and position yourself on your hands and knees. “Like this.  _Please_.”

He groans behind you --and then his hands are on your hips and he’s thrusting into you, hard and ruthless.

You scream his name as pleasure mounts inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the sensation, focus on the feeling of Piotr thrusting in and out of you, focus on how  _full_  and  _wonderful_ you feel...

Another climax rips through you --and one quickly after that when Piotr hits your g-spot just right--and then you’re gone. Overstimulated and buzzing with endorphins, your go limp and sloppy, clenching and spasming around Piotr uselessly as he fucks both of you stupid. Your body shakes with each powerful thrust, your face pushes and rubs against the mattress--

And then Piotr groans, thrusts once more, and practically collapses on top of you as he finally reaches his climax.

You whimper when Piotr pulls out of you, shivering as the cool air of the room washes over your bare skin. “Baby?”

He’s back in an instant, cradling you against his chest and planting soft chaste kisses all over your face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Damn, that was fucking hot. I’m gonna have to save that one for my personal library.”

You feel Piotr tense against you. “Hey, babe, it’s alright. Just ignore him.”

“Actually, don’t ignore me, because I’ve got good news. This stands as a personal testament to your stamina, chrome dong, because you actually managed to fuck your girlfriend out of the fever. My hat’s off to you, my man.”

“Shut. Up,” Piotr growls.

“Ignore him, baby,” you murmur as you kiss his jaw. “Just ignore him. Let’s just go get cleaned up, okay?”

He sighs, then slides out of you and scoops you into his arms. “ _Da_. Let’s get cleaned up.”

 

* * *

The next two days follow a familiar pattern. Whenever one of you starts feeling off, the two of you beat feet to the bathroom --it’s easier to clean up than the bed--and screw until things settle back down.

It’s not to say that all of this isn’t fun in it’s own right. You enjoy sex with Piotr and the fucktons of orgasms that the sex pollen gas lets you have --and you’ve definitely discovered few new kinks that you want to play with once you’re out of here, not to mention the round where Piotr bent you over the arm of the couch and fucked you until your legs were practically gelatin--

Anyway.

But the entire situation also sucks. Massively. Aside from the fact that you feel like shit from the constant on and off fevers, the 24/7 camera surveillance is just flat out creepy.

And it doesn’t help that Dwight likes to throw in his own commentary whenever the two of you go at it.

“You know, I was wondering why your girlfriend did so much yoga. Damn, man,  you really like to pretzel ‘em, don’t ya?”

And if you don’t like Dwight’s near omnipresence, Piotr outright  _hates_  it. As much as you’re doing your best to keep his spirits up, it’s easy to tell that he’s not happy. He’s gone eerily silent --even for him--and doesn’t make eye contact with you half the time.

It doesn’t sit well with you. Not in the slightest.

So, whenever the two of you aren’t fucking each other’s brains out, you focus on loving on Piotr. You snuggle against his chest, run your fingers through his hair, press chaste kisses against his lips, talk to him about whatever you can think off --anything to keep his mind off the cameras watching your every movement.

And, when the two of you go at it, you try to keep as much emotion in it as you can. You run your hand over every inch of his body, moan about how good he makes you feel, tell him you love until your voice goes out...

In the long run, though, you can’t tell if it’s doing any good.

And that scares you more than anything else ever has.

 

* * *

“Hey, babe?”

Piotr hums as he rubs his hand up and down your arm.

You wriggle and shift until you can see his face. “Are you alright? You’ve been really quiet for the past day or so.”

“ _Da_ ,” he says softly. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Same... you’re sure you’re alright?”

“ _Moya lyubov’_ \--”

“Because you won’t even look at me right now, and you’re barely talking to me, and it’s freaking me out.”

Piotr opens his mouth to respond--

The sound of gunfire blazes over the speaker system, along with a terrified sounding Dwight. “What the fuck!”

Piotr sits up abruptly, tucking you behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Best guess: zombie turtles,” you offer, entirely unhelpful.

There’s more sounds of chaos and general destruction, and then the speakers crackle to life once more.

“Well, what the fuck do we have here?”

You perk up. “Wade!”

“Well, I guess that answers where the two of you went. Why are you in an ‘Old Boy’ looking bunker?”

“Oh, darling brother of mine,” you say as a malicious smile crosses your face. “You aren’t going to believe a single word your ears hear.”

Once you’re done outlining the situation, the peal of laughter Wade lets out is nothing short of terrifying. “Well, shit--” there’s a thud, and Dwight lets out an anguished scream “--looks like we’ve got ourselves a run of the mill pervert with access to Daddy’s bank account!”

“I’m a scient--”

“Shut the fuck up, you crusty dillhole! Not only are you a fucking creep, but you abducted my little sister and watched her and her boy scout boyfriend go in full-on rabbit mode! Nate! Nathan! Get your futuristic ass in here! You’re gonna love hearing about what this shitstick did!”

“Wade, focus!” you shout. “You need to turn the sex gas off!”

“He’s busy,” Ellie says. “He and Nathan are beating the shit out of the creep. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the chemical stuff.”

“Language, NTW,” Piotr says half-heartedly. “What about guards outside our room?”

“Already taken care of.”

The door opens, revealing the hallway outside.

“Alright. I’m turning the cameras off so you two can get dressed. The mics are still on, so scream if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Ellie,” you say. “Oh, tell Wade and Cable to leave a piece of Dwight for me. I’m gonna beat his ass into a pulp.”

“Sure.”

Piotr sighs and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Try to be nice,  _dorogoy_.”

“Are you shitting me? This douche locked us in a room, drugged us, and watched us have sex, and you want me to be nice?”

“Excess violence is unbecoming.”

You take one look at the tension in his shoulders and the bags under his eyes and decide to drop it. Instead, you clamber into his lap and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Fine. I’ll be nice. But only for you.”

Piotr smiles tiredly and presses his forehead against yours. “Thank you,  _myshka_.”

 

* * *

You dress in relative silence, focusing on getting cleaned up as quickly as possible.

Let the record show that you’ve never liked silence all that much.

“Are we okay?”

Piotr turns to face you, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would we not be okay?”

“Well, you’re barely looking at me, and you won’t talk to me, and it was my idea to go on the movie date--”

Piotr cups your face with his hands and presses his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off. “We are  _fine, myshka_ ,” he says when he breaks the kiss. “Relax.”

“Well, you’ve barely talked for the past few days. I got worried. I  _am_  worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying. It has been stressful few days, and all I want to do is go back to mansion. But we are  _fine_.” He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face against his chest, temporarily relieved by the gestures of affection. “I love you, too. Speaking of which, can I ask for an eensy-teensy favor?”

Piotr chuckles. “ _Konechno_.”

“Would you mind carrying me out of here? My legs are still sore.”

He chuckles again and scoops you into his arms. “Anything for you.”

 

* * *

Ellie stops the two of you in the hall leading out of the compound. “Douchepool and Cable want to talk to Y/N real quick,” she says, jerking her head towards a random room.

“It’s alright, babe,” you say when Piotr hesitates. You slip out of his arms and hop down to the floor. “How about you and Neg head out to the jet? I’ll come out with Nate and Wade in a couple minutes.”

“I... are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You kiss his cheek. “Go. I know you wanna get out of here. I’ll be alright. Nathan and Wade’ll keep me safe.”

Piotr frowns, concerned, but kisses you anyway. “ _Khorosho_.”

You wait for him to walk out of view with Ellie, then quickly stretch your legs before walking into the room Ellie had nodded at.

Nathan and Wade are standing in Dwight’s “viewing room,” glaring down at one particularly terrified, pasty looking asshat that’s been --by all appearances--none too gently duct taped to a chair.

“What do you want us to do with him?” Cable growls, leering down at Dwight until the younger man whimpers. “Wade’s got half a mind to castrate him and fuck him with his decapitated cock.”

“The other half says find a feeding ground of sharks and let them have a snack,” Wade says, manically gleeful.

“Piotr wants him unharmed --I don’t want to fucking hear it, Wade!” You growl when your honorary brother starts bitching. “Piotr’s had a rough enough several days as it is, and I will  _thank you_  not to add to it.”

“Ugh --fine!”

Dwight laughs nervously. “What, that’s it? No threats? No smacking around? I thought you guys were supposed to be scary.”

You glare at him for a moment --then grab him by the back of his head and smack his face into the table he’s sat in front of.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“Listen to me, you useless fucking pube,” you spit out between gritted teeth. “If you  _ever_  come near me or my boyfriend again, you’re going to  _wish_  I’d let these two kill you right here, right now, by the time I’m done with you. Got it?” You sneer when he whimpers again and release him. “Get him away from me.”

Wade grabs the leg of the chair Dwight’s taped to and starts dragging him towards the jet as haphazardly as possible. “Come on, ducky! Time for you to find your future prison daddy!”

Nathan chuckles and slings an arm over your shoulders. “You ready to head home, kid?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

 

* * *

You find Piotr sitting in the gazebo after you’re cleared by Dr. McCoy, staring out at the vast greenery of Xavier’s property.

He smiles when he sees you walking towards him. “ _Privet, myshka_.”

“Hey.” You clamber into his lap and let out a happy sigh when he kisses your forehead. “How are you?”

“Better now that we are home. How are you?”

“Same as you. Happy to be out of that fucking room. Felt way too much like my childhood for comfort.”

Piotr holds you closer and kisses your temple. “I’m sorry,  _lyublyu_. I didn’t even think of that.”

“It’s fine. Besides, I had you I knew I was safe as long as you were around.” You kiss his jaw when he smiles. “Are you better from... earlier? You almost seemed like you were collapsing in on yourself. In the emotional sense, not the physical sense.”

“I am... getting there,” he says after a moment of thought. “I was feeling... guilty.”

“Guilty?” You frown. “Guilty over what? Is this a consent thing? Because we were both drugged, and abducted, and Dwight didn’t tell us about the side effects so we couldn’t make informed decisions when we were lucid--”

“Yes, yes, I realize all that,” he says with a smile. “And while  _none_  of that sits well with me, that is not what I was feeling guilty over.”

“Well, what are you beating yourself up on, then?”

“That I... enjoyed it.”

You blink once you put together what he’s talking about. “Well, I’d hope you’d enjoy having sex with me. I’d have several questions if you didn’t. And, I mean, I don’t really see anything wrong with you enjoying getting off or getting me off --drugs or not. Again, if you didn’t enjoy it, I’d be a little worried.”

“That is essentially what Wade said when he and I talked earlier.”

You blink again. “You talked to Wade about this?”

“Are you upset?”

“Upset, no. Surprised, yes.”

He chuckles softly at that. “Wade and I do not see eye to eye on many things, but there are some... areas where he is most knowledgeable. This is one of them.”

“Fair enough. Well, what did he have to say about all of this?”

“That we made best decisions possible, given circumstances, and that I should not feel guilt at given you pleasure, even with given context.”

“He’s right, you know.”

Piotr sighs like a man twice his size. “Perhaps. Everything is... complicated.”

“Babe, you didn’t do anything wrong by enjoying sex while we were doped up. It’s a natural response. Besides, it doesn’t mean we’d do something like that all the time --or even ever again. I’ll be honest, the past couple days don’t even make it into my top ten list of hottest sex sessions I’ve had with you.”

“They don’t?”

You shake your head. “No. Yeah, the orgasms were nice, but I much prefer being able to think straight. Being able to take some sense of time and just enjoy being intimate with you. If there’s no sense of intimacy, of connection, then it’s kinda moot for me. If I wanted orgasms and orgasms alone, I’d get a fucking vibrator.”

He laughs into the crook of your neck. “Oh,  _myshka_ , what am I going to do with you?”

“Can you honestly say you don’t feel the same way?”

“ _Nyet_.”

“See, I knew you were a vibrator kind of guy--”

“Stop. Not now.”

“Sorry.” You kiss his cheek again. “Believe me, the past few days aren’t anything I’d want to replicate. I like the way we do sex just fine.”

“That is relief. I thought you might want more of what happened.”

“Nope. You do just fine on your own, Pete. No special aids required.”

He smiles as he kisses your forehead. “Thank you,  _myshka_.”

“Anytime. I’m happy to talk about your sexual prowess anytime, any place, in any amount of detail. Case in point--”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry.” You smile up at him. “Wanna go snuggle? Nothing sexual, just some nice, simple snuggling?”

He grins back down at you. “I would love to.”

The two of you stand and walk back to the mansion together, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Side note: Those bad sex excerpts weren't mine. I couldn't write that badly if I tried.
> 
> If you feel like scarring yourself permanently, check out this link: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/nov/30/bad-sex-award-2018-the-contenders-in-quotes.
> 
> Don't say I didn't warn you.


End file.
